


The Long Road to Hell

by minniesalinas



Category: G Gundam
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, Gen, Grandparents & Grandchildren, Major Original Character(s), Military, Minor Original Character(s), Online Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Pre-Canon, Prequel, Psychological Trauma, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Smoking, Suicide Attempt, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-01-22 08:32:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12477548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minniesalinas/pseuds/minniesalinas
Summary: The drama behind the birth of the Devil Gundam did not start with the Twelfth Gundam Fight or the Kasshu Family tragedy. It was a series of lies, betrayals, and mistakes that conceived it. And there are no innocent parties. Please note that I will be referencing the Chokyu! Mobile Fighter G Gundam version of events in future chapters. Feedback is more than welcome.





	1. A Bullet is Cheaper than Whiskey

    Doctor Mikamura rang the doorbell once again. It was in the dead of summer, late July. The artificial weather conditions never climbed over 27 degrees in the Kanto district on the Neo Japan space colony, though it was still plenty warm enough to cause him to perspire. He wiped beads of sweat from his forehead as he waited at the threshold.

    "Please answer," he murmured to himself as cicadas chirped loudly in the muggy heat. It was scheduled to rain tomorrow, and the humidity was already rising. It had been three weeks since the conclusion of the Twelfth Gundam Fight, three and a half since that sudden and humiliating defeat. He had yet to hear from Major Ulube Ishikawa since then. The radio silence was deafening.

    Mikamura stepped back and shielded his eyes as he he gazed up at the small, unassuming house. There didn't seem to be any sign that he was home, no lights, no air conditioners running, curtains drawn, and a mail slot full to the brim with letters.

    "I guess I went out my way for nothing..." Mikamura, extended the handle of his roller luggage and turned toward the narrow street when someone called him from the neighbor's door.

    An older granny, hobbling on her cane with cloth and empty shopping bags hanging on her arm asked, "Are you looking for Ulube-kun?"

    Mikamura nodded, "Yes ma'am. I was told he took leave and I came to visit since I was in the area."

    "Unfortunately I haven't seem to have seen him in a few days now. Poor young man," she stepped slowly into the street and limped toward Mikamura, "I saw him on the television. To think that they made him apologize for losing to the eventual champion. A formidable fighter at that. But with all the bad blood and controversy, the Defense Ministry had to have a scapegoat." Mikamura remembered the press conference shortly after the Gundam Fight. The blinding flashing lights of cameras and the clamor of reporters barking questions like rabid dogs was not a pleasant sight to behold. But it was Ulube's dead-eyed stare and the low, humiliating bow that struck Mikamura.

    "Pardon me ma'am, you said you saw him a few days ago?"

    The old woman nodded, "I sure did. He had a bunch of bags from a convenience store. It looked like he bought a bunch of liquor. And he looked like death warmed over."

    Mikamura blinked, "Liquor?"

    "Whiskey I believe. That cheap no-name crap. I've knocked on his door to see if he was alright, but I haven't had an answer since. I figured he may have gone back to work"

    Mikamura's eyes widened, "But he doesn't-"

    "Anyway son, I've got to be on my way. Gotta get dinner on the stove. If you find him, tell him to keep up the good work," the old woman bowed politely and shuffled along, leaving Mikamura with his mouth hanging open. He stood there as the cicadas continued to chirp. He jolted when the other shoe hit and bolted for the front door, dropping his luggage in the street.

    Pounding on the door, Mikamura yelled, "Major! Major open up!" He turned the knob and pulled on the door, not knowing what to expect. Mikamura fell backward and on to his rear when he found out too late that the front door had been unlocked. He scurried to his feet and stared at the door for the moment, the heavy feeling in his gut sinking further. He approached the door carefully, well aware that Ulube wasn't one to hesitate to shoot. Neo Thailand's Fighter found that out the hard way last August.

    He knocked on the door and peered inside, "Major? It's Mikamura," he stepped in slowly and began to take off his shoes. Ulube's work shoes were paired together, polished to a mirrored finish and positioned at attention. His dirty gray running shoes were tossed haphazardly near the step. He glanced at the amount of letters that piled up behind the door. While he was amazed, somehow they only worried him more.

    After slipping out of his shoes, he crept further past the stairway and to the door to the living room, calling out to him again, "Major?" The door was ajar, with a red and white jogging suit and a pair of underwear scattered in front of it. The air inside was still and suffocatingly hot with a lingering organic odor, but Mikamura couldn't tell if it was garbage or something else. What little sunlight shone through the living room illuminated dust motes as the floor creaked with each step.

    Mikamura once again knocked and peered inside, "Major Ishikawa?" It was even hotter in the living room. The beads of sweat on Mikamura's forehead grew to droplets and began to roll down his face. The curtains to the back porch patio were drawn partially, allowing the sunlight to illuminate the scene. At least two empty bottles of cheap whiskey were set on the coffee table with a plastic bag from a convenience store with at least a couple more. There was only one shot glass half full of whiskey. However, Mikamura's worry shot into panic when he saw the blackened pistol and box of ammunition in the middle of the mess. He stumbled to the coffee table and couch to find the man he was looking for. Major Ulube Ishikawa was naked, unconscious, and face down in a puddle of his own evaporating vomit.

    "Oh God," Mikamura shoved the coffee table away and shook his shoulders, "Ulube! Ulube-kun wake up dammit!" Mikamura turned him over by his shoulders and pulled him away from the soiled floor. He cradled his head and tried to slap him awake, but he got no response. Ulube was ghastly pale, his lips blue and bleeding from how dry they were, and was barely breathing. His green, sunken, and blood shot eyes were rolled backward and motionless. Every inch of him smelled like pungent alcohol and sweat. Thankfully, there was no sign of any gunshot wounds; the situation was already dire enough. Mikamura laid Ulube's head on the floor and headed to the kitchen. The burnable trash can was overflowing with garbage, wrappers and uneaten food from convenience stores. He simply yanked the bag out and tossed it aside, then brought the can into the living room. He set it by him, and with considerable effort, sat Ulube upright. He placed the can in between his legs and held his head above it by his unkempt hair. Mikamura hesitated for only a moment. He then shoved his hand in the Major's mouth and flicked his uvula.

    Ulube's eyes snapped wide open. His body heaved as he began to projectile vomit the contents of his stomach. There wasn't a sign of anything solid, just brownish whiskey and neon yellow bile. Mikamura held tight to his hair while he dug into his pocket for his cell phone. His hand trembled as he tried to dial 119 with his left hand. He slipped up and had had to dial again. However, before he could, he felt a frighteningly strong hand grip his wrist. It squeezed him hard and forced him to drop his phone.

    "M-Major? Are you...?" Mikamura lifted Ulube's head from the garbage can. While still in his deep stupor, Ulube had regained consciousness and leered at Mikamura from under his heavy eyebrows.

    He blinked his bloodshot and glassy eyes and managed to mumble, "... No"

    Mikamura replied, "Major this is dire you need medical-" Ulube slowly shook his head no.

    The two of them sat in silence. The cicadas outside continued to chirp. Mikamura's wrist began to hurt with Ulube's tightening grip.

    Mikamura finally relented, "Well... you need to drink some water."

* * *

    The sun had set a couple of hours ago. When Ulube finally finished vomiting, Dr. Mikamura somehow managed to drag him to his couch in spite of Ulube having more than thirty centimeters and at least thirty kilograms more than him. Since then he continued to nurse him as best as he could as he fell in out of sleep. When Mikamura felt Ulube was over the worst of it, he made a trip to a nearby convenience store to pick up some things; heavy prepared meals, vitamin drinks, and several more bottles of water and Pocari Sweat. As he returned to the house, he found the lights were on.

    "Major? Are you awake?" Mikamura called as he entered. He found that the mail from the door had been gathered and the clothes were gone. He made his way through the living room and into the kitchen where he found Ulube leaning on the sink and pouring out the rest of the whiskey. This time he was wearing the red and white jogging pants from the floor and had tied his unwashed hair into a messy ponytail.

    "Doctor," he slurred, "Nearly everything you did could have killed me."

    Mikamura blinked and asked, "Are you serious?"

    Still plenty drunk, he placed the emptied bottle on the kitchen counter, "Never induce vomiting, don't lay an unconscious vomiting person on their back, and don't stick your fingers in someone's mouth to induce a gag reflex unless you want to lose some fingers." He opened the second bottle and dropped the cap on the floor.

    "Oh...oh dear..." Mikamura said, blushing in embarrassment.

    Ulube suppressed a belch while staring at the whiskey pouring down the drain, "About the only thing you did right was try to call emergency services. But I shouldn't have expected much from you." Mikamura looked down at his shoes and fell quiet for a moment.

    While not looking up, he finally said, "I brought some food. You should probably put something on your stomach." Ulube didn't react, shaking the bottle to make sure it was emptied. He then set the empty bottle next the first on the counter and began to stumble to the living room. Knowing that this was going to be a disaster, Mikamura set the bags down and walked to Ulube as he tripped on his own feet. Mikamura caught him by his chest and stood him back upright while letting him lean on him.

    As they hobbled slowly to the couch, Ulube hung his head low and mumbled, "Stop calling me "Major." My name is Ulube. It's just Ulube. I'm Ulube..."

    This wasn't the first time Mikamura heard this, "I apologize. Referring to someone by their rank is a hard habit to break." He thought to himself how Ulube's instance of using his first name was strange, considering his prestigious family line. When they reached the couch, Mikamura slowly lowered Ulube and laid him down. Ulube tried to sit up and reach for something on the table.

    Mikamura laid him flat again, "No don't get up Ulube. What do you need?"

    "Ice."

    Mikamura looked at the table to find a warm blue ice pack sitting in a thin film of water. He picked it up and went to retrieve the shopping bags. He brought the bags into the kitchen, placed the warm ice pack in the freezer, and brought out a cold one.

    As he rummaged through the bags, Mikamura told him, "They had oden at the convenience store. I didn't know what you'd like, but I got boiled eggs, kinchaku, satsuma-age, and chikuwa. I also brought curry buns and-"

    "I don't need that crap."

    Mikamura frowned and grabbed the cardboard bowl of of oden and a pair of chopsticks from the bag, "Well since you decided to drink yourself halfway to death, you're going to have to eat this 'crap.'" He then walked back the couch, set the food and ice pack on the coffee table, and pulled Ulube upright. He then handed the bowl to him and sat down next to him. Ulube blinked confusedly and then sighed. He pulled the chopsticks from the paper wrapper and tugged on them until they separated into uneven halves. He then opened the bowl and inhaled the steam from the fishy, somewhat salty broth.

    "It does smell alright," he said as he took a piece of satsuma-age, a fish and vegetable cake, in between his chopsticks. Mikamura watched as he took a bite from it and chewed slowly at first. He began to chew with more enthusiasm as he took the rest of the satsuma-age into his mouth.

    "Hungrier than you thought?" Mikamura asked. Ulube just nodded as he took the chikuwa and ate it in three bites. Mikamura sat relieved that he was starting to get back to his old self. He wasn't all better, but he was getting there. But then he remembered the gun, which he still had hidden in his roller luggage at the door.

    As Ulube slurped at the broth, Mikamura finally asked, "So, I remember you telling me that you weren't fond of hard liquor."

    "I hate the smell." Ulube replied, taking another piece of satsuma-age into his mouth.

    "Whiskey's pretty hard..."

    Ulube swallowed and paused, "...Yeah... that it is."

    "And the gun?" Ulube sat silent for an awkward moment. He then brought the bowl to his lips to sip on the broth as the clock on the wall ticked away.

    "Why didn't you shoot?"

    Ulube lowered the bowl, closed his eyes, and bowed his head, "I was so drunk that I forgot about the safety... I figured since that wasn't going to work, I'd just use the alcohol." The both of them sat in silence. Mikamura didn't like that his assumption was correct. He glanced at Ulube, head still low as his oden cooled.

    "Are you going to get help?" Mikamura asked. Ulube turned his head, stray strands of hair hanging on his cheek.

    "I think I've gone through enough humiliation Doctor. I don't need some pampered snot-nosed medical resident telling  _me_  what I'm thinking."

    Mikamura sighed, "I would argue what happened today would have been a much worse humiliation." Ulube turned away, but Mikamura saw his ears reddening in anger.

    "Why'd you come here anyway?"

    "I came to Kanto to wrap up some business with the Defense Ministry and the Gundam Fight Team. When I saw you weren't at work, I was told you were on convalescent leave. I figured I'd pay you a visit." Mikamura said, tugging on his beard.

    Ulube clarified, "But why did you come visit me?"

    "You didn't look like yourself during that press conference. I figured you'd need a friendly face after all of this." The first droplets of rain began to fall and patter on the window. Ulube set the oden on the coffee table and grabbed the ice pack. He then laid back and placed the pack on his closed eyelids.

    "Huh, it wasn't scheduled to rain until tomorrow," Mikamura murmured.

    "Even in such a controlled environment, man cannot control nature. He can only influence it."

    "He may not control nature, but he can surely control his behavior." Ulube didn't reply.

    Mikamura continued, "I can understand why you won't seek help. I'm not in your shoes, and I'm not the one getting the angry letters from people who, just a few weeks ago, were singing your praises. But I am a member of your team and a coworker. I care for your well being. So I'll make you a deal; Let me reprogram your gun safe and the combination, and I promise I won't tell anyone about this. I'll give you the combination when I think you're out of this... mess." Ulube sat silent for a moment, then pulled the ice pack off of his eyelids to look at Mikamura. They were still bloodshot and swollen.

    "You promise to not tell anyone?"

    "Not a soul."

    "And what should I do if you break that promise?"

    Mikamura didn't like the tone of the question, "That is something I have no intention of finding out." They sat once again in the silence, save for the ticking clock and the falling rain outside.

    "I'll take your offer..." Ulube murmured. Mikamura raised his head, smiling slightly.

    "However, I do take oaths very seriously, Doctor."

    "There's no need to threaten me Ulube-kun. I'm doing this for your sake." Mikamura watched as a faint smile crept on to Ulube's face.

    "I don't hear that all that often."

    "What precisely?"

    ""I'll do it for your sake."" Ulube smiled wider as he placed the ice pack back on his face.

    Mikamura nodded then stood to his feet and gathered some of the empty water bottles from the table, "Well, you do need one other thing."

    Ulube asked, "What's that?"

    "A bath." Ulube took the ice pack from his face and looked at Mikamura with a raised eyebrow. He then sniffed his armpit and grimaced.

    "Damn, I do smell like a sweaty bar," Ulube chuckled softly, "And a bath would do me some good."

    Mikamura walked to the kitchen to throw away the garbage and asked, "Do you mind if I stay with you until you're completely sober? As a precaution of course." When he didn't get a response, he turned around to find Ulube slouched to his side, asleep and drooling on the armrest. Mikamura threw the bottles in the recycling can and returned to the living room. He lifted Ulube's legs and pulled them on to the couch. As he turned him on his side and pulled a thin blanket over him, he heard Ulube muttering in his sleep.

    "Is...this "divine intervention"...Mother?"

    Mikamura wasn't sure if he could agree.


	2. An Appointment in Ichigaya

_Ulube spoke before he thought,_ _"You deserve to be pounded into the dirt for abandoning your country, Shuuji Kurosu." While he got no response from his opponent, a screen from the support channel popped up almost instantaneously._

    " _Shut your fucking mouth Major!" General Takeda, the lead Gundam Fight Coordinator, snarled, his face reddened in anger. That was the first time Major Ulube Ishikawa ever heard his mentor curse. That wouldn't be his only first that day…_

    A small puddle of sweat had formed underneath Ulube as he performed his morning workout in his underwear. A sportscast played from the radio on his dresser as he continued his push-ups, counting silently. Sweat piddled from loose strands of his hair that draped over his shoulders. Kenichiro Toyomi excitedly narrated the scene as he normally did for the past thirty years with a distinctly deep voice but a chirpy manner of speaking. Yota Takayanagi of Ulube's favorite team, the Yokohama BayStars, was up to bat against the Osaka Buffaloes.

    It was the bottom of the ninth and the Buffaloes were up by two runs. The BayStars had all bases loaded and just needed one good hit to continue their eight game winning streak. As Ulube counted past one hundred, he heard Takayanagi swing his first strike. Counting past one-twenty. Another strike. The puddle began to dribble underneath Ulube's hands, but he continued as his face flushed. As his pace began to slow, the Buffaloes pitched one last time. Ulube's palm slipped from underneath himself as he pushed again. The crack of the bat. His face made contact with the floor. The roaring cheers of the crowd thrown into a frenzy. Toyomi's infamous motor mouth ran at a hundred kilometers an hour as he announced that the BayStars won again.

    Ulube laid in that puddle, staring out into space, and said to himself, "At least they didn't choke…"

    A couple of hours and a long shower later, Ulube was on the go. He did his best to minimize his chances of being recognized. With a nondescript gray sweat suit and running shoes, he wore a pair of Oakley's with his famous long hair tied up under his BayStars ballcap. The look was both obfuscating and functional in the intense summer sunlight. On his walk to Sagami Station, he stopped by his usual convenience store to pick up a quick meal; a small salmon fillet, bean salad, a can of black coffee, and a pack of cigarettes. While it may not have been the best lifestyle, Ulube found himself depending on convenience stores more and more as his responsibilities increased over the years. It wasn't as if he didn't know how to cook, he just didn't spend enough time at home to justify buying groceries. Plus this was better than the MREs he'd be forced to eat on patrols.

    With his small shopping bag dangling off his wrist, he made it to Sagami Station and boarded the express to Ichigaya Terminal. The last of the morning work rush was petering out by the time he got there and swiped his pass. This train ride was his every day before the Gundam Fight; most of the people on the train were either military personnel or civilian government workers. He could only find a seat on the sunward facing side, the intense light peeking over the disk of the Earth in the great black expanse of space. Although the windows tinted during daylight hours, it was never strong enough to make the light comfortable. As tacky as they were, he was glad he decided to wear his Oakley's. He lowered his head, crossed his arms and pretended to sleep as he timed the quiet ride by the stops. Not even five minutes into the ride, he heard tittering and murmuring right outside of earshot.

   "Do you think that's him?" Not moving his head, Ulube glanced toward the people talking. Two enlisted women from the Earth-based Neo Japanese Army were staring at him as they whispered to each other.

    "I'm not sure…," the young, round-faced private said, smiling shyly.

    The sergeant, the older and more senior of the two, cocked her head and said, "If that is him, he's cuter in his photos." The anxiety shot up. Ulube began to feel himself sweat.

    The private replied, "That's so rude. Besides, no one looks cute in Oakley's."

    There were five more stops and a half hour to Ichigaya.

* * *

    Ichigaya was one of the few areas in the Neo Japan space colony that was used exclusively by the Ministry of Defense. The closest base to Tokyo, this was where most, if not all, Gundam Fight development was based out of. The surface level was mainly populated by the Defense Minister, government officials, generals, and staff underground levels was where the interesting and classified things were. These levels also held the majority of support commands and organizations including logistics, mobile suit maintenance, and medical facilities servicing the Kanto District.

    After arriving at the cavernous Ichigaya Central, Ulube headed to the platforms used exclusively by Ministry of Defense personnel and took the lift to the underground levels. The vehicle, which was essentially a train built at an angle, dipped below the blinding sunlight on the surface and into the sterile, artificial reflected light of the underground with the low hum of the electromagnetic engine.

    From the station, he meandered his way to a nondescript clinic near the near the hospital. As he stared his stomach turned at the thought of entering. For two minutes, he hesitated while beginning to notice how much the stale air in the lower levels smelled like pee. A year on Earth forces anyone to notice how off things are in the colony. Passersby glanced at him, not recognizing one of the most famous faces in all of Neo Japan at the time.

    " _I shouldn't be here…"_ Ulube thought to himself. He turned and walked to a nearby park, plastic bag still in hand. He glanced at his gold wristwatch and saw that he still had an hour to decide. He took a seat on a bench facing the clinic and decided to eat his impromptu brunch there. He'd typically eat more, but his appetite rarely came nowadays. It showed on the scale. As he nibbled on his salmon, he opened his can of coffee with one finger and sipped. His eyes remained glued to the clinic as he ate and drank. When he finished eating, with half of his small meal left he gathered his garbage into the bag and lit a cigarette. He took a long drag, obscuring his view of the clinic as he began to tap his heel.

    " _I do not want to be here."_

    But orders are orders.

    " _Shit."_

* * *

    A therapist's chair was the last place Ulube Ishikawa wanted to be. The only thing he'd hate more was being in front of those cameras… When he entered the building, he took his cap and sunglasses off. All eyes on him once again. His hair was a frizzy mess and Ulube squinted as his eyes adjusted to the artificial light shining through the curtains. He tapped his heel as he waited for the Doctor to return from the front desk, craving another cigarette. In the stillness of the empty office, Ulube reviewed his answers on the assessment quizzes to himself.

    " _I'm not suicidal, I have been eating normally, I do not have… flashbacks…I'm not suicidal…"_ As he ran this mantra through his head, he put his usual work face on. A demure smile, a calm demeanor, and hiding any evidence of trouble in mind and spirit. It's something that he had practiced since he was nine years old. If he can convince this pampered jackass that there's nothing wrong with him, he wouldn't have to waste his time anymore. He can return to some form of normal, even if it wasn't his previous 'normal.'

    A light rap at the door, and a plump man with a neat haircut and fox-like eyes peered in, "Ah Major! Thank you for being so patient!"

    Ulube smiled as he stood to his feet and extended his hand, "It's no problem at all, Doctor Shindo."

    Shindo replied as he grasped Ulube's hand and gave it a firm, energetic shake, "Well I am looking forward to working with such a prestigious and recognized young man." Dr. Shindo was a considerably fat and youthful looking man whose age was only betrayed by the amount of gray hair streaking his hair. The top of his head barely crested over Ulube's clavicle, which was typical for the average Neo Japanese man. Clean shaven, rosy cheeked, and a wide grin that practically closed his eyes, he definitely didn't strike Ulube as a typical practitioner.

    "I'm humbled Doctor…" Ulube bowed slightly, appreciating the slight ego boost.

    Dr. Shindo pulled out a black case from his pants pocket and pulled a pair of wire framed glasses, "Well how's about we get started. In your own words Major, tell me why precisely you are here to see me."

    Ulube rubbed his chin and recited from memory, "I'm here for my scheduled post-Gundam Fight psychiatric evaluation, as per instruction."

    Shindo's grin widened as he settled into his chair and , "Major, is that what you were told, or what you believe?"

    He lied, "It's what I was told."

    Dr. Shindo, leaned back in his chair and folded his hands on top of his belly, his fox like grin becoming more irritating, "Do you mind if I take moment to go over some ground rules?"

    "I don't see why not."

    As he spoke, Shindo thumbed through packet of papers that contained the assessment quizzes, "I have very simple expectations, Major; firstly, show up to all of your appointments on time. If you can't make it, give me the courtesy of a phone call at least a day ahead. That I don't think we'd have an issue with."

    "Of course not."

    "Secondly, complete all of your assignments. I will assign homework, and I will need your best effort."

    "Alright."

    "Third, I demand full participation in our sessions. If you waste my time, you will not like my recommendation."

    "Fair enough." Ulube nodded.

    "Lastly… and what I consider my cardinal rule," Shindo leaned closer, "Do. Not. Lie to me."

    Ulube blinked, "Pardon?"

    "When you are in my office, honesty is paramount. Without the both of us being honest, I can't make my best recommendation, and you will not receive the help that you need," Shindo pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "So please leave your public face at the door."

    Ulube's smile began to fade, ""Help?""

    "Precisely. You were recommended not because of standard procedure, though I will be the one to sign off on your evaluation. You had an episode near the end of the Gundam Fight that was of grave concern to the Defense Ministry. Do you recall this epis-?"

    "There was no "episode,"" Ulube began bouncing his heel, the smile harder to maintain, "I was injured and taken to the hospital as standard procedure."

    Shindo's smile widened in apparent amusement, "Cardinal rule, Major. And I'm assuming that you weren't completely honest on these assessments?"

    At this point, Ulube was frowning, "Are you questioning my answers?"

    "Were you or were you not honest on these assessments?"

    Ulube, slowly creeping from annoyed to angry, replied, "No."

    Shindo dumped the quizzes in his shred box nonchalantly, "I'd rather work with no information than false information. Thank you for your honesty."

    "Do you mind if I smoke, since we're being 'honest?'" Ulube asked, taking his fresh pack out of his sweat shirt pocket.

    "Not in the slightest."

    Without hesitation, he popped a single cigarette out and took it with his lips. As he adjusted it in his mouth, Shindo took out a simple red plastic lighter and offered to light it and an ashtray from his desk. Ulube leered, but leaned in toward the flame and took a drag as it ignited. When satisfied, he leaned back and exhaled a long trail of smoke upward. Shindo waited as Ulube relished in his much desired nicotine buzz.

    As he tapped the ashes into the tray, Ulube asked, "So you need me to be honest."

    "No, I require it." Shindo corrected.

    ""Require."And in my own words, you want me to state why I am here?"

    "Correct."

    Ulube took another drag and exhaled the smoke as he continued, "Alright. In my own words I am here because I was ordered to."

    "Do you want to be here?"

    Ulube sneered, "I'd rather not. But I'm doing what I am told, and I don't think refusing to come would work in my favor."

    "And why were you ordered to be here?"

    "…I had… an incident."

    Shindo, asked as he scratched down notes on a pad, "Could you please elaborate?"

    Ulube narrowed his green eyes, "I…I uh…experienced a traumatic incident. And in response I was hospitalized for about four days."

    "Due to injury?"

    "Partly… but I was completely unresponsive during that time," Ulube brought the cigarette to his lips, but the buzz didn't seem to be enough as his heel started to bounce again.

    Shindo nibbled on his pen, "Was this due to brain trauma?"

    Ulube took another drag, "Nothing apparent. Though I am being monitored."

    "What do you believe happened."

    Ulube sat silent for a long moment. That numb feeling that kept him from directly looking at that 'moment' began to give way to the goose bumps of anxiety and shame. As he brought his cigarette to his mouth one last time to finish it off, his hand began to tremble. The roar of the crowd. The subtle electric hum of the cockpit. The adrenaline of the fight. The glory that poured from his homeland watering his vastly swollen pride. The sudden rip in all that he fought for. Gone in a flash and a drilling pain in his chest.

    The room faded into the LED lights of Gundam Daimyo's cockpit. His clothes tightened on to his skin and faded in to his familiar Mobile Trace Suit. As he looked up to Dr. Shindo to retreat to the present, all he saw was the humble Kowloon Gundam standing silently at the other end of Piccadilly Arena. The cigarette butt in his hand dropped and disappeared. Nothing around him existed. He wished he didn't exist. Ulube began to hyperventilate. He felt it, but it wasn't happening in this 'reality.' Before the match was started by Prime Minister Henry Barfield, he heard the mumble of another man's voice and a firm hand shaking his knee.

    "Ulube? Ulube come back!"

    Ulube closed his eyes hard. The crowd muted into murmurs, and then disappeared. He was back in his dumpy gray sweat suit. He was again looking at the rotund Dr. Shindo. Back in the artificial light. While he was aware, it took him a moment to grasp that he wasn't back in the arena anymore. He smelled the tobacco. He heard the clock and his slowing breathing. He felt numb.

    Dr. Shindo, looking genuinely worried for the first time since the session began, asked, "Where are you?"

    Ulube blinked, brought his hand to his forehead and realized he had been sweating profusely, "…I-Ichigaya, Kanto District?"

    "Are you sure?"

    "Yes."

    "What day is it?"

    "Thursday."

    "Who is the current Commissioner?"

    "Commissioner Akio Fukuyama."

    "And what is your name?"

    Ulube finally began to think that he was back, "Ulube…Ulube Ishikawa."

    Dr. Shindo held Ulube's knee for a moment, looking at his face to make sure that he was okay. He then sat back in his chair and scratched some more notes.

    As he wrote, Shindo asked, "Where did you go just then?"

    "I went back there… Back to London."

    "And when?"

    Ulube hesitated. He leaned down to pick up the cigarette that fell to carpet and placed it on the ashtray.

    He then took a deep breath and said, "Back to my match with… with Master Asia." There was a surprisingly poisonous hiss that came when he said his name as he balled his fists. It was the first time that he forced himself to refer to Shuuji Kurosu's adopted name. Arrogant son of a-.

    "So it seems that the Gundam Fight, or rather its conclusion, has become a considerable source of distress for you," Shindo flipped the page he was writing on and started writing on a fresh one.

    "You could say that." The two of them sat silently for a moment as Shindo continued to write.

    "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you are taking some time to visit family on Earth?"

    Ulube nodded, holding the bridge of his nose, "Yes, I'll be in Kamakura visiting my Grandfather."

    "And how long will you be gone?"

    "Three weeks." As Ulube said this, Shindo ripped the page he was writing on and handed it to him.

    Ulube looked at the chicken scratch handwriting on the sheet, glanced back at Shindo, and asked, "And what's this?"

    Shindo, now back to writing more notes on his original sheets, responded, "Your homework assignments. There are three. Firstly, I need you to list at three of the most enjoyable and negative moments during your experience in the Gundam Fight. Second; I'd like you to list things and activities that interest you  _outside_ of your occupation. I've been told you do have an interest in Gunpla, but that is related to your job…" Ulube wrinkled his nose. He talked too damned much during his magazine interviews.

    "Lastly, I want three visualizations. Drawings, collages, whatever you can manage."

    "Visualizations of what?"

    Shindo pointed to him with his pen, "Of how you felt right before, during, and right after the Gundam Fight."

    "That sounds childish." Ulube muttered.

    Shindo smirked his knowing grin, "You'd be surprised how useful this assignment can be. In short, Major, I think the best approach in your case is working backwards through time. While what happened during your match would rattle anyone's cage, I think that the way you're handling it says a lot about your past."

    Ulube frowned, "Like what?"

    "For next time Major. But please, make your next appointment at the front desk," Shindo said, as he stood to his feet motioned to the door.


	3. Bittersweet Farewells in Kansai

   A taxi was parked in front of a sizable home in the middle of nowhere in the Kansai District. On the long stairwell down from the front door, a young lady in a loose sun dress and open toed heels sat with a couple of large roller luggage decorated with dozens of stickers from travels and hobbies. In the muggy heat of the summer, she hugged her knees as she waited.

   Her father, Dr. Mikamura, watched from the shade in the threshold of the door, not enjoying her somber mood. This was, after all, a time to be overwhelmingly happy. His pride and joy was off to university earlier in her life than many of her peers and was on the fast track to becoming someone great. But here she was, pouting as she waited, the hair in her ponytail beginning to frizz in the humid air.

   "Rain… perhaps he got tied up with work…" Dr. Mikamura said as he began to make his way down the steps.

   Without turning to him, Rain mumbled, "Kyoji keeps his promises, Father. I'm not leaving until I can say goodbye." While brilliant, she was still young and impulsive.

   As Mikamura made his way to the second flight, the taxi driver called out to him, "Sir, the meter is at 2,500 yen already…"

   "It's fine, thank you for your patience," he replied. The taxi driver raised an eyebrow, but rolled the window up once more. Mikamura slowly took a seat next to Rain who scooted slightly to make room for him. His back wasn't what it used to be. He took her hand and squeezed it gently.

   "I know it's hard to leave for a new life sweetie. And I know it's hard to leave everything you know behind," he spoke from his own experience leaving for college around her age.

   He began rubbing her hand with his thumb, as he always did to calm her down ever since the divorce, "But you're a young woman who has a responsibility to start out on the right foot. And that begins with making it to the spaceport on time."

   Rain burrowed her face between her knees, "I-I know Father…" He felt her hand tremble. He knew full well how much Rain admired Kyoji growing up. While he knew it to be an innocent crush, he wasn't fond of the idea of her getting so attached to one of the Kasshu boys. But there was no harm he could see in it, and he most certainly understood young love. He took to rubbing her back and gently kissing the side of her forehead as she stubbornly stayed in place.

   He whispered in her ear, "Come on Rain. You can't miss this flight…" Defeated, Rain slowly stood to her feet. Her makeup had been messed up from her crying and rubbing her face on her knees, but it wasn't anything that couldn't be fixed on the way to the Osaka Colonial International Spaceport. As Mikamura grabbed one of the roller luggage by the handle and struggled to steady it, he heard rushed footsteps in the distance. Rain saw him before Mikamura did.

   "Kyoji! You came!" she shouted as she bounded down the steps. From the direction of the considerably larger Kasshu household, a young man in an unbuttoned lab coat and messy black hair was in a full sprint. In his hand, a pink paper gift bag jostled helplessly with his movements. Rain ran as fast as she could in her heels to meet him in the middle. Mikamura watched as he continued to struggle down the stairs with the luggage. The taxi driver popped out of his car and walked up the stairs to help the much weaker Mikamura. Rain practically jumped into Kyoji's arms, which took him by surprise as he had to take a couple steps back.

   As Rain buried her face into his chest, Mikamura heard her beginning to cry again, "I knew you would come! I knew it!" she sobbed. Kyoji, still out of breath and flushed held her in his arms. Mikamura frowned as the driver got first luggage in the trunk. A crush was one thing, but physical contact was pushing his buttons.

   Once Kyoji caught his breath, he apologized, "I'm so sorry I'm late. Father and I were caught up in something…"

   "It's fine… You made it and that's all that matters," Rain managed to say as she tried to wipe her face. They finally let go of each other.

   "Still I should have been on time… Please don't cry," Kyoji frowned as he held her face and wiped stray tears from her cheeks.

   "I'm just happy you're here, Kyoji…"

   Mikamura was becoming increasingly annoyed as the driver loaded the last of the bags into the trunk. He stood cross armed, beginning to scowl as sweat dribbled from his forehead. He felt his gut burning as he watched the two of them. Whether it was indigestion or anger, he wasn't sure.

   Kyoji presented the bag to Rain once she composed herself, "For good luck." He smiled warmly as she meekly took the bag and held it to her chest.

   "Rain! You can't miss your flight!" Mikamura called out.

   Rain tried to protest, but Kyoji stopped her, "Open it when you get settled in," He winked at her reassuringly, "Just promise you'll let me know what you think once you do, okay?" Rain nodded, trying to hide how wide she was smiling. Then, the two of them jogged back to the taxi and Rain's father. Once they reached the taxi, Mikamura hugged Rain once more.

   "No more dawdling, okay?" Mikamura said as he held his daughter in his arms one last time.

   Rain nodded, markedly happier, "Yes Father."

   He stood on his toes and kissed her on the forehead, "Now… go do great things."

* * *

   Dr. Mikamura and Kyoji watched as the taxi sped off around the bend into the hills. They stood together in the heat for an awkward moment before Mikamura broke the silence.

   "You know, she would've been heartbroken if you never came," he muttered as grit his teeth.

   Kyoji looked down toward him, somewhat ashamed, "I know, sir."

   "And another thing," Mikamura looked up at him, his eyebrows furrowed deeply, "Learn common courtesy and how to conduct yourself as a gentleman."

   "E-Excuse me?"

   "You have the arrogance to assume that holding her like that was appropriate after showing up late. Especially in front of her father…"

   "Doctor, I just hugged her…" Kyoji blinked, looking confused, "Is… Is everything okay?" Mikamura looked down at his toes to compose himself. Kyoji was still young. There shouldn't be too much of a reason to be upset with him. Besides, Rain was a young adult, capable of making her own decisions…

   "Forget I said anything."

   "No, if I offended you, I'm sorry."

   "It's fine Kyoji-kun."

   Kyoji rubbed the back of his neck nervously in the awkward silence that followed, save for the cicadas, "Well, I do need to get back. We still have a lot on our agenda today…"  

   Mikamura held his wrist and looked up at him, "What are you and your parents working on anyway…? Your father didn't submit a design for the 12th Gundam Fight, nor has he said anything in relation to the Defense Ministry. And his normal braggadocio hasn't shown itself in quite some time…"

   Kyoji narrowed his eyes, "I can't say anything."

   "And why's th-?"

   "I  _can_ _'t_ say anything…" Kyoji repeated, "He'll tell you when he's ready, but I'm in no position to speak on his behalf. Now if you're done Doctor…," he glanced down at his wrist. Mikamura, somewhat surprised that he did that, sheepishly retrieved his hand. Kyoji turned, bowed, and took his leave as he jogged back to his home. Mikamura watched him as he faded into the muggy haze emanating from the asphalt. Before he could turn back to his house, he saw Kyoji turn around and wave.

   "Doctor! I almost forgot! Father wants to invite you to tea soon!" Kyoji shouted, his voice ringing surprisingly clear over the cicadas' chirping. Mikamura only managed to wave in response and turned back to his door. He wasn't going to bother shouting back in this heat. He had an empty home to return to and mobile fighter designs to perfect. If Doctor Raizo Kasshu wanted to invite him, he sure as hell knew how to use a phone.

* * *

   It was already past ten p.m. and Kyoji was finally done for the day. He dried himself off after a long soak in the tub as he meandered to his bedroom. As he rubbed one of his towels through his hair, he heard his cell phone vibrate.

   "Where did I put it…," he never seemed to know where it was. He rarely used it save for his games. He was far too busy for a social life nowadays. Kyoji held on to his towel as he crouched by his nightstand to find his cell phone lying on the floor. He picked it up and unlocked it. There were two notifications; the first for one of his games. The second was a Neo American number had called and left a message about fifteen minutes ago. That had to be Rain. He unlocked his phone, opened his voice mail, and listened to the message.

   "Kyoji! It's Rain. I just called to say thank you so much for the earrings! I absolutely love them! It was so kind of you to give me something like this. Thanks to you, I'll be the cutest freshman on campus! I'll message you when I get a new phone. Good night, and thank you again!" She sounded so energetic in spite of the long flight to the Neo American space colony. Kyoji only felt reassured hearing her in such high spirits. He knew that she'll do well, even if she was a little nervous right now.

   As he was about to turn his phone off, he decided to look at the notification from his game. It was one his favorites, a calligraphy and word guessing game called 'Kanji Shuffle.' An oddity in the Future Century era, it was a game focused on learning increasingly obscure and difficult kanji characters in a time where simplification and slang were in vogue.

   Kyoji opened the notification and found one of his favorite rivals was online, a man he simply knew as 'ushitaisaKMKR', though he simply referred to him as 'Ushi-san.' The two of them were matched up a few years ago before the game became popular. It seemed to be a perfect rivalry as the two of them quickly advanced to the upper echelons in the ranking boards and pushing each other to learn more. They began chatting outside the game and found out that they had a lot of common interests; gunpla and model building, engineering, classic literature, and much more. Though Ushi-san was about ten years older, Kyoji genuinely saw him as a peer and the closest thing to a friend he had at the moment; most of his Western college buddies now living their lives independently and were slowly drifting away from him.

   It had been a couple of weeks since they spoke, so he sent a message.

 **kansainousagi:**  Ushi-san? Are you awake?

   It took a moment for a reply to come.

 **ushitaisaKMKR:**  I am. Getting packed up for a trip. Sorry I haven't been around Usa-kun…

 **kansainousagi:**  It's fine! I know you're probably busy with work. But I hope you have been well. You didn't sound in the best of spirits the last time we spoke.

 **ushitaisaKMKR:**  I've been dealing with a lot of difficult circumstances. A lot of it work related. But I will be okay. I just have to get my mind focused. ╰(๑'ൠ '๑)╯

   Ushi-san had a strange habit of using custom cow emoticons on occasion. According to him, he made them based on a childhood nickname. He was self-conscious about it at first, but Kyoji found it to be really charming. He just started using rabbit icons to make him feel comfortable about it.

 **kansainousagi:**  I understand. So where are you going? ／(-･ × ･-)＼

 **ushitaisaKMKR:**  I'm going to Earth to visit family. Breathe in fresh air. Swim in an actual ocean. Maybe pick some peaches.

 **kansainousagi:**  That sounds really relaxing! I haven't been to Earth in so long. I wish I could go with you. But I have a lot of work tying me to the Colony at the moment.

 **ushitaisaKMKR:**  Maybe I could take you with me one day. I could always use pleasant and intelligent company.

 **kansainousagi:**  You really mean it? ／(,,Ő ｘ Ő,,)＼

 **ushitaisaKMKR:**  Eventually. But I would like to meet IRL before we make elaborate plans. How about we discuss it when I get back?

 **kansainousagi:**  Of course! And I won't keep you. I know you're busy. But I do have a surprise for you when you get the chance to talk.

 **ushitaisaKMKR:**  You're no bother. But I'll message you as soon I make it to Earth. You have a good night Usa-kun, and I look forward to your surprise! ୧╰(*ﾟൠﾟ*)╯୨

 **kansainousagi:**  And you sleep well Ushi-san.

   Kyoji smiled to himself as he closed the app. While the conversation was short, it was certainly sweet. It was nice having a friend in the all encompassing life of being the eldest Kasshu brother, even if it was just online.


	4. Back to Square One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to thank DeathBySegwayScooter for giving this chapter a beta read! Please give her work a read, especially her G Gundam fic, On the Dark Side.

_“Ulube, are you scared?”_

_Nineteen year old First Lieutenant Ulube Ishikawa stood in his dress uniform on the porch of his childhood home in Kamakura. Duffel bag on his shoulders, hair shaved into a high and tight, shoes polished, and nothing on his chest but a couple of ribbons and his brand new Mobile Suit Pilot_ _’s pin. Rain pattered on to him as droplets fell from the brim of his cover. He graduated at the top of class in Officer Candidate School and Mobile Suit Pilot’s Battery and still got screwed. He hesitated stepping off of the porch. His feet were heavy blocks of concrete keeping him secure in that spot._

_He didn_ _’t want to leave. His assignment on Jovian patrol was all he could see in his future. His father’s last assignment on Jovian patrol was all he could see in his past. The nightmare of being flung out of orbit by space pirates. The all consuming knowledge of knowing that there was no escape. The last thing overwhelming the senses being the darkening orange clouds and dissonant alarms and roaring wind as the mobile suit around you disintegrated. He was terrified._

_He shivered as the thoughts began to chew at his nerves. He felt warm hands on his face. They gently lifted his face so he made eye contact with his grandfather, dressed in a blue kimono and black hakama. Retired Colonel Kenzo Ishikawa was the perfect man that Ulube aspired to be since as long as he could remember. The man who raised him when his parents passed on. Strands of his long, salt and peppered hair came loose from his ponytail and obstructed his aged face. Ulube tried to hide the fact that he was crying, but he sniffled and felt the tears drip before he noticed them. Kenzo stared at him with his warm brown eyes and smiled._

_“Ulube, no matter how far away you may be, you will always have a home to come back to. Just don’t give up before the journey has started.”_

    A ferry to Yokohama sped away from Chiba International Spaceport, a gigantic glass and steel structure that loomed off the coast of the city of Chiba under an overcast sky. There was never a guarantee that the train tracks would be intact, especially in years coinciding the Gundam Fight. If someone was going to a major city south of Tokyo on the Miura Peninsula, they were better off on ferries. They’ve become such a lucrative business that Japan Railways had absorbed the service to augment their slumping business.

    Below decks in a tiny locker room, Ulube was changing out of his red and white track suit. Half-asleep and exhausted from the nine hour flight from the colony, he yawned and rubbed his eye as he stood in his undershirt, skivvies, and socks. He then unzipped his garment bag revealing a much more appealing uniform compared to his everyday service uniform. A green jacket with stiff shoulder boards with golden rope woven on its surface and major’s insignia. Instead of the clashing red collar, which symbolized him being a part of the Gundam Fight team, there was a red rope attached from the left shoulder board to underneath the green collar. This rope was capped at the end with a gold ornament that dangled slightly below the chest pocket.

    The blue tie, his proof of being a mobile suit pilot, was replaced with the gold winged sakura pin with crossed lightning bolt and rifle above his stacked ribbon rack. On his left sleeve, the Kanto District Mobile Suit Wing 2 unit patch. At the end of his sleeves were his commission bars and 4 service stripes, one for each four years of service. On his collar were the matching gold Neo Japan Space Forces emblem pins. The jacket was rounded off with a green belt and conspicuous gold buckle. This jacket was matched with gold piped slacks, black necktie, and stiff combination cover with gold strap and crest. Ulube couldn’t figure out for the life of him why his service uniform was so damned ugly.

    As he slipped into the white dress shirt on and began to button it up, he saw someone in the corner of his eye. A middle aged man eyed him awkwardly as he pretended to text on his phone.

    Ulube narrowed his eyes and asked, “Is there something I can help you with?”

    The man blinked awkwardly and replied, “You… you look oddly familiar…”

    Ulube snorted and turned away, “I get that a lot.” He knew damned well what the man meant.

* * *

 

    After docking in Yokohama, there was still a train and a taxi left on his journey home. Trains on this side of Tokyo tended to be more reliable, as for some strange reason, Gundam Fighters tended to congregate in larger urban areas. Ulube never understood that logic and was able to say with clear conscious that he did not contribute to the decay of his homeland.

    On the JR Yokosuka train to Kurihama, the car was populated with a strangely large population of office workers and school kids in the early afternoon. Yet the noise barely rose above the sound of murmuring. Ulube didn’t make eye contact with anyone and kept his hair tucked under his cover as he sat in a seat close to one of the doors. He’d receive a glance here and there; a Space Forces officer on Earth was a strange sight understandably. With a half hour to kill, Ulube decided to make headway on his homework assignment. He dug a small green notepad and pen from one of the front pockets of his roller luggage. He crossed his legs and flipped to the page where he had scratched down Dr. Shindo’s assignment. ‘Three hobbies that are not work related’ seemed to be the simplest out of them.

_'Alright, gunpla is out of the question…,’_ he thought as he put pen to paper, _‘I don’t think physical activity would be automatically eliminated.’_ Hobby one; Running. Next was traveling, something that he gained a higher appreciation for during the Gundam Fight. While Ulube always thought the concept of ‘bucket lists’ to be clichéd and tacky, he had to admit that there was a lot more in this world he wanted to see before he died. He really liked Oklahoma for some odd reason. And finally, ‘reading.’ Technically listening to audio books while he was on patrol with nothing better to do, but reading none the less.

    “That was easy,” Ulube said to himself. But as he looked at the other assignments, he began to doubt himself. Those would have to wait until he was ready to dig up his past. He put his notebook and pen away as the train approached Totsuka Station. He realized that the population seemed to be growing with several more salarymen and high school students boarding. As the train lurched out of the station, Ulube got the sneaking suspicion that this wasn’t normal.

    He turned to a dozing older man next to him and asked, “Is there something going on? There seems to be a lot of people on the train for so early in the day.”

    The old man glanced at him and sneered, “How should I know, Colonial.” Ulube was taken back for a moment.

    Before he could reply, another younger salaryman standing nearby said, “There’s a typhoon coming up the coast. It should be here by this evening, so everyone is heading home early.”

    “Really? How bad is it going to be?” Ulube asked as the older man grumbled and went back to nodding off.

    “It’s only supposed to be a category one, but it’s supposed to be bringing a lot of rain. They’re talking about landslides and flooding overnight.”

    “Not like a Colonial like you would know anything about that,” he heard the old man grumble under his breath. Ulube resisted the urge to react. There was no use giving a presumptuous old fool more fuel or starting unnecessary arguments.

* * *

 

    A half hour and a taxi ride later and Ulube was finally at his destination. The clouds above darkened as he pulled his luggage out of the trunk. The two story home, built with dark wood and a fusion of traditional and new aesthetics, was surrounded with stone walls. A wide iron gate was the only way in, which was unlocked for Ulube to come in. As he walked up the stone path with his roller luggage trailing behind him, childhood memories began to flood back. The sunflowers in the planter near the porch were in full bloom. The view of the sky was obstructed by a pair of sprawling peach tree laden with fat, ripe peaches waiting to be picked on either side of the path.

    Even the slightly damp scent on the wind began to erase the stress and humiliation that seemed to be ever present in his life. Ulube took a moment to finally take off his cover and allow his hair to fall on to his shoulders. He closed his eyes as he allowed the strengthening breeze to cool his face and head. Inhale. Exhale. For a moment, worry was a concept Ulube could say he was ignorant of. He stood there for a few moments, breathing deeply and calm. This was the natural world. This was the way it was supposed to be.

    When he finally snapped to, he replaced his cover on his head and fussed with his hair for a moment. He then reached up and picked two peaches from low-hanging branches near the path. He cradled them in his right arm as he pulled his luggage with his left. As he approached the front door, he felt the flutter of anticipation. Climbing up the porch, the flutter turned into pounding.

    He rang the doorbell. Sounds of clattering of dishes and shuffling bounded around inside. Stomping footsteps approached the door. The door flung open and inside was Kenzo Ishikawa with his long, snow white hair in a ponytail, dressed in a dark green kimono, black hakama, and a sunflower print apron. His smile beamed wide and as bright as he remembered.

    “Grandfather, I’m-!” Ulube didn’t get to finish. Kenzo had wrapped him in a tight embrace. It took a moment, but Ulube hugged him back with his free arm. Even though Ulube now towered over his grandfather, he always felt so safe in his arms.

    “Welcome home, Ulube.”

* * *

 

    The rain and wind were in full force by the time dinner was done. All of the storm shutters in the house were closed, save for the one on the sliding glass door to the patio. Both Kenzo and Ulube laid down on the futon that was brought into the living room for the evening. The power had gone out an hour ago, and the both of them had stripped down to their underwear to keep cool, with Kenzo revealing the numerous bullet and shrapnel scars from the Chaos War. Unfortunately the generator didn’t kick in like it was supposed to. They worked their way through the beers in the fridge as they finished their meal with wedges of fresh, peeled peaches.

    Kenzo had noticed that throughout the night, Ulube never talked about himself or dodged the topic of the Gundam Fight. He watched as his grandson, now a grown man, nodded off as he nibbled on a peach wedge, his hair pulled back in a loose braid.

    “Ulube?”

    Ulube sniffed and blinked his eyes as he turned to Kenzo, “Yes, Grandfather?”

    “You accomplished your dream, right? Becoming a Gundam Fighter?”

    Ulube glanced back outside to the rain, “Not precisely. But I don’t want to talk about it.”

    Kenzo tilted his head in concern, “Well, just explain ‘not precisely’ then.”

    He closed his eyes and inhaled, “My dream was to become a Gundam Fighter and _win_ for Neo Japan…,” Ulube took his last beer and finished it off in several gulps, “Every decision I made in my adult life was to accomplish that goal. And we both know how that ended up. So no. I didn’t accomplish anything. Now let’s not talk about it anymore.” Kenzo crossed his eyebrows but conceded. Ulube was going to be home for a few weeks, so there would be more opportunities to help him cope. He’d always been overly sensitive about his shortcomings.

    “You know Grandfather… I now realize why you and Mom never wanted to go to the Colony.”

    “Oh?”

    “Yeah. Everything seems so artificial, even wrong up there. The environment, the people, even the weather,” Ulube snickered, “Plus meat is so damned expensive. ‘Hey do I want yakiniku or do I want to pay my electric bill?’” Kenzo smiled. While he knew Ulube was dodging what was bothering him, seeing him laugh was something he’d never complain about. Kenzo ate the last of his peaches as the both of them listened to the wind howl and the trees shake in its mercy. When he was done, he turned to say something to Ulube, only to see he had dozed off to sleep.

    Of course he was exhausted, all of that traveling would wear anyone out. Kenzo plucked the empty beer can from Ulube’s hand and pulled him further on to the futon. He didn’t bother with the blanket since the temperature was already creeping up and there was no telling when the power would come back on. As he stared at his grandson as he began to snore softly, he couldn’t help but think that he looked just like his father, Gunpei. But he was his own man.

    He slid a stray hair from Ulube’s face and whispered, “Good night, Ushi-kun.”


End file.
